We Die In the End
by rapturemelancholia
Summary: Trapped miles under the ocean, Laura Jennings fights to return to the surface - with the help of a certain businessman. [Set during the events of BioShock and BioShock 2]


**_1958, Rapture, April_**

The sharp sound of heels hitting concrete echoed through the corridor of the empty Sinclair Solutions building. A young woman was making her way down the dimly lit hallway, lips pursed in an annoyed manner. As she came to a stop in front of Augustus Sinclair's office door, she knocked three times. A moment later a man was heard humming a muffled and uninterested "Come on in."

Straightening her black, knee-high skirt, she became hesitant on opening the door. It wasn't nervosity that gnawed at her, but rather the fact that it was well past one in the morning and that she could be sleeping. Instead, Augustus Sinclair had decided that this was the best time to speak about a possible job. Not wanting to dwell on the matter too long, she opened the door and entered.

Augustus Sinclair was a tall, broad middle-aged man with dark, ruffled hair and bright chestnut eyes. He sat quietly by his desk, rummaging through a pile of papers with a lit cigarette resting in his hand. He looked up from his work as the woman entered. He grinned widely, revealing a set of perfect, white teeth. "Ms. Jennings, how nice of ya to stop by this late at night." His Georgian accent was thick as tar and appealed to his business attitude. It was easy to understand why so many fell for his charm, with a million dollar smile like his.

Laura scoffed, "My pleasure, Sinclair. What was it that you wanted to talk about?" She pulled out the chair that stood in front of his desk, sunk down and rested her elbows on the paper-littered desk.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, he leaned forward in his chair, "I reckon you know about my little _business_ here? Well, I'm lookin' to expand a bit. I'm investing in the Kashmir and I want you to be my little songbird up on the scene. Rumors floatin' around in Pauper's Drop say you're quite the singer, and you seem like a woman who knows things; how to get people to talk, right?" Laura nodded, unsure of his scheme. "Nothin' too dangerous, nothin' too intimate, just plain ol' chattin' after the shows an' some eavesdropping is all."

Sinclair was an odd fellow. You never quite knew where you had him since he seemed to only be on his own side. Laura quirked a brow and hummed, "So you want me to be your spy?"

He nodded, a smirk appearing on his lips, "Not only are you talented and good-lookin', but you're also a sharp-witted woman." Sinclair crushed the cigarette butt in a gleaming, crystal ashtray and proceeded to pull out a pack of Lucky Strikes from his inner pocket.

Extending the pack to Laura, she accepted with a smile, grabbed one of the cigarettes and placed it between her teeth, "And what makes you think I'm so different from all the other talkative wenches in this place?"

Sinclair chuckled, "You're clearly not a whore and those addicts aren't even close to how pretty you are." He winked, causing Laura to blush softly. She wasn't one to fall for charms that easily, but she couldn't deny that the man was quite attractive. Lighting the cigarette, he added, "In fact, I think you an' I are very alike."

Laura quirked a brow, becoming increasingly more curious, "How so?" She asked, her sultry voice sweet like honey.

Her eyes followed his movements as he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a stack of papers along with a bottle of single malt Scotch whiskey. "Well we're both devilishly attractive," Laura smiled, suppressing a laugh. Sinclair grinned and continued, "And we both have a sense for business, unlike the other clowns down here."

Laura narrowed her eyes, taking a long drag of the rapidly burning cigarette. "I suppose I can agree on that." Her business was solely on the surface. She helped run a low-profile smuggling organization which only consisted of 16 people that had been situated along America's coastline and on a few points in Europe. They mostly dealt with weapons and cigarettes - a trade that proved to be profitable. "And what's your offer if I accept?"

"Simple," He leaned back, settling his eyes on the skeptic woman, "I'll give you a nice place in my own hotel. A simple way out of the gutter, and - let's say - thirty percent of the profits."

Laura wasn't a fool - she knew the hotel was another slum. It was, nevertheless, better than her current rat-hole residence. Her rosy lips parted as she thought about what to say. "At the very top?" She finally mumbled. She imagined the view of the ocean with whales swimming by, exotic fish in groups and Rosies repairing the outside. It was surely beautiful.

Sinclair handed her the documents he had retrieved from the drawer, "'Course, right next to mine."

Laura sat quiet and fiddled with her hands. It was a good offer, the best you could get in Rapture for her kind. Laura was stuck in this city, so what harm would come if she took the job? She sighed, "Fine. It's just that I..." Sinclair raised a questioning brow at the woman as her worried gaze fell to the floor. "You have to promise that I'll be safe here, and I want _at least_ one gun for my flat." Looking up at Sinclair, she pursed her lips into a thin line.

"Course, darlin'. No one's gonna hurt ya." He handed her a ballpoint pen, watching her every move as she read through and signed the contract with quick hand movements.

She handed it back to him and mumbled, "I hope for your sake no one does." Giving promises away like Sinclair did was not a clever move in Rapture. Everywhere you turned the people were becoming violent and the streets reeked of unease, threatening to ensue chaos any day now. Laura had stepped right between the two hotshots, Frank Fontaine and Andrew Ryan, who were fighting one another, biting at each other's heels. Rapture was Ryan's creation - his Utopia, and a man like Fontaine was not going to take it away from him without having to fight. It would - with no doubt - develop into a full-blown underwater civil war in a matter of time.

There's no use worrying about the future, Laura told herself. She didn't give a damn about Fontaine and Ryan's bickering. Not _yet_ , anyway.

After weeks of long nights and early mornings, Laura was completely exhausted. Sinclair was exaggerated when word got around about the Kashmir's newest attraction and money started to roll in. The customers that dined at the restaurant loved her performances and soon the place was packed full every night for a chance to see the newfound talent perform and sing. Sinclair, being the businessman he is, got the idea of making Laura his pin-up girl for his advertisements. The idea became a huge success and Laura Jennings was now the talk of the town. People who passed her in the hallways or on the street greeted her with 'Sinclair's golden girl' or simply 'Sinclair's gal'.

Laura Jennings had just appeared out of nowhere it seemed, and stolen the hearts of Rapture's citizens right under their noses. While she enjoyed singing, she disliked the copious amount of attention she was receiving. The worst part was that she had caught the eyes of both Fontaine and Ryan. She would be a priceless asset, there was no doubt, and she wasn't sure Sinclair _wouldn't_ sell her out. If given enough money, he surely would. Give a man enough money and he'll do anything you ask. It was like giving a treat to a dog.

* * *

 ** _1958, Rapture, New Year's Eve_**

"And a toast for the lovely songbird!" Diane McClintock - Andrew Ryan's mistress - announced loud in her drunken state and raised a glass of champagne in the air, giving Laura a bright smile. Diane was a tall, blonde woman with soft eyes and a loud laugh, and was only a few years older than Laura.

It was New Year's Eve and the Kashmir Restaurant was the center of celebration for the night, attracting all of Rapture's high-class citizens. Andrew Ryan had just broadcasted his speech and given a toast to the people.

 ** _"May it be our finest year."_**

"You're making me blush, Diane." Laura chuckled and smiled at the intoxicated woman. She turned her attention to Sinclair who stood by the bar. He raised his half-empty glass of whiskey to her and waved her over. After excusing herself from Diane's company, Laura approached her employer with a playful smirk.

"There's my golden songbird," Sinclair chuckled and snaked an arm around her shoulder, "Havin' a good time?"

As Laura parted her lips to answer his question, a deafening explosion erupted from the center of the large restaurant, springing everything into chaos. Sinclair had to drag Laura out of the building before she realized what was happening. Fear struck the people and they ran over each other trying to get to the exit only to be gunned down by masked thugs waiting by the exits.

"What the hell is going on? You think it's Atlas?" Laura snapped as the pair made their way to the Sinclair Deluxe. Her voice was trembling and she was on the verge of crying. "Bloody hell, is this my blood?" She frowned and used a piece of her dress to wipe away the blood smear that coated her arm.

Sinclair lit a cigarette with shaking hands, "I have no clue, darlin', but it sure ain't good news. Let's split before any of us get a bullet in the head."

Laura nodded and started walking faster. Hugging her arms tightly, she sobbed quietly. Sinclair wrapped his blazer around her, placing his hand on her waist. "Laura." the blonde perked up at the use of her name. Sinclair never used her name, he only addressed her using nicknames. He lifted her chin up, "Are gonna be alright?"

"We almost died a moment ago. No, I don't think so. Not today at least." A defeated sob escaped her lips as she rubbed her tear-filled eyes. "Augustus, will you please stay with me tonight?" She pleaded as they came to a stop.

Dropping his still burning cigarette, he nodded. "Course darlin'. I'm not about to leave you alone after something that horrible."

Laura's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you. I would've forced you if you said no."

Sinclair chuckled, "Good to see your sense of humor isn't gone."

* * *

 ** _1960, Rapture_**

Laura woke up early to continuous knocking and groggily told the person to bugger off. Rolling over to the side, she heard the front door unlock. "Go away, Gus. I'm sleepin'." Sinclair was the only one with a spare key so she laid her head back on the pillow.

She pouted as Sinclair stuck his head into the bedroom, a cigarette placed between his lips. He had dark bags under his eyes and looked more stressed than usual "Laura, get up. Ya gotta get up now." He walked to the wardrobe, picking out a few casual pieces of clothing.

"W-What? What's the damn hurry?" She clutched the sheets to her chest as she watched Sinclair take out the gun he had bought for her from the safe on the wall. "Augustus, what is going on? Did something happen?"

He glanced over his shoulder, "We gotta get out of town real quick. Ryan's dead. Been that way for a while. Got done in by his own son." He tossed a blouse to her before turning his attention to the wardrobe again.

"His son? He has a son?" She pulled the dark blouse over her head, confusion written on her face. Since when did Andrew Ryan have a son? "Where are we going? How do we get out of Rapture?" They were miles under the cold ocean, there couldn't possibly be a way out without having full access. Ryan was extremely paranoid in that matter, only allowing the people he trusted the most to have even moderate access to the surface.

"Don't start doubting me now, darlin'. I have this all figured out."

Whatever Sinclair had planned, it was delayed. Chaos erupted in a few days after Ryan's death and Splicers occupied most of Rapture. Many died or became Splicers, and only a small portion remained relatively normal. The one thing that remained normal was that the Big Daddies kept guarding the Little Sisters, and the Little Sisters continued harvesting ADAM.

Sofia Lamb, a scientist, quickly took over the role as Rapture's new leader. She developed Big Sisters from the older Little Sisters - stronger and faster models of the Big Daddies.

Sinclair and Laura took into hiding in Ryan Amusements, doing their best to fend off Splicers while trying to work out a way to get out of Rapture and to the surface.

"Do you think Rapture will ever be the same again?" Laura asked quietly, leaning back against the wall. She feared the answer but felt the need to know.

Sinclair blew a puff of smoke from his mouth, "I doubt it. That's why we're getting out of here as soon as we can."


End file.
